


Late Calls

by prometheanTactician



Category: Homestuck, Mobsterswitch - Fandom, Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Self Harm, attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2454896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prometheanTactician/pseuds/prometheanTactician
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pernicious Innovator has dropped off the map for a few days, and no one really thinks much of it until Deadeyes phone rings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Calls

Your head is pounding, eyes stinging from exhaustion, limbs heavy and patience run dry. Your name is Deadeye Detective and you really just want to go to bed. Your apartment is blissfully empty when you get home from work. It's a blessing, really, and you're relieved. No clatter of a tea set in the kitchen, no curled up shape on your couch. Innovator has chosen the proper day to leave you be. The way things have gone today, the way that vile witch had mocked you, stole the case that would've made your career. The way Crowbar chuckled- you know he helped her, the bastard.

Innovator wouldn't have stood a chance against you. You'd have taken all of this out on him and you're not sure you'd have the wits about you to stop when you usually do. You don't really think about the fact that he'd probably know exactly how to calm you down. You also don't think about how long it's been since you've heard from him. No calls, no break ins, no sleeping outside your window. He doesn't even seem to be involved in any cases, though Scofflaw and Delinquent are thoroughly enjoying themselves.

But no, you don't think of this. You don't really care, after all. You're relieved, in fact, and you're certain that the unease in the back of your mind could not be labelled concern. Your stalker is finally leaving you and the city alone. What could be better?

But then, the two of you had transcended to a more civil sort of relationship. Well, whatever civil was for you two. You can't help but wonder where he is, and perhaps the itch in the back of your mind making itself ever more prominent the more you think of it truly is concern. It can honestly be said that you hope he's okay. That fact almost makes you ill.

You'd been home for a nice little while when your phone rings. You growl, not willing to deal with anyone, ready to enjoy a nice evening alone. But you do answer it.

"Hello?" You grind out, irate and too tired to properly or politely converse.

"..." There's shaky breathing on the other line, quiet sounds, and you are painfully familiar with that hitch in breath, that quiet whine, those distressed noises.

"Innovator, if you have nothing to say, then I'm hanging up." You snap, in no mood to entertain his theatrics.

"I-i-i-i-" he tries, and fails, to speak, then hisses out in a whisper. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you calling." If he needed something, he'd drop by and ask you in person. He'd never pass up an opportunity to be with you.

"I-i- I'm- I'm sss-sorry- so sorry-" there's a hitch to his words, almost a sob but not quite. Alarm bells are going off in your head and you sit up a little straighter. 

"Sorry for what. What have you done?" You're demanding, harsh and perhaps cruel, but you detest the way he's making the concern for himself grow. You hate the idea that you might be worried about him. He whines in response, but it's weak, weaker than even his usual self. That's saying something.

It occurs to you that something is very wrong.

"I haven't seen you in a while." You talk, force it to sound casual, trying to draw him out and get him to tell you something. "You can't have been terribly busy. None of your cases have crossed my desk."

"P-personal." He squeaks the word, like he barely has enough in him to say it.

"You were busy with something personal." You hear movement. He's nodding, forgetting that you can't see him. "And yet now that you have time, you call rather than come see me. Why?"

"I... I thought y-you'd... appreciate it. You- you wouldn't want to see me." He doesn’t sob, or even sound all that torn up about it. Just resigned. Defeated. In speaking so much he reveals how just weak he sounds. Like he's fading. You think you have an idea of what's going on on his end of the call, but for once you hope that you're wrong.

"But I do." You don't. You appreciate your solitude, as rare as it has become. Even if you did miss him, you wouldn't be able to recognize the sentiment. You lie anyway, hoping that as faded as he is and unable to see you, you might be able to trick Pernicious Innovator. "I've missed you, you know."

"You haven't." Yeah, you didn't entirely expect him to buy it. "I knnn-know you, Detective. You've en- enjoyed your time alone, without me as a- a nuisance." He sounds bitter, like he's trying to be angry about it but can't quite manage the energy it would require. You swallow thickly. You need to be careful about this.

"Innovator, what's wrong. What's happened? What are you doing?" You expect a sob, another whine, but he just sighs lightly, easily.

"Nothing's... wrong, Detective. Everything is just fine. Better than I've ever hoped." Perhaps he's simply high. You banish the thought that he might be woozy from blood loss, but you still grab your cellphone with your house phone balanced on your shoulder, text Scofflaw. He needs to go to Innovator, you tell him. It's urgent. He continues talking, and you let him.

"It... it hurts, of course, but... but the longer I wait, the more it all dims.You have th-that effect on me, you know. You make it all quiet down. Easier to bear." He sighs again, but it's heavier, more emotional. "I loved you so much."

"Love, Innovator. Present tense."

"Ah. Yes. I... suppose that still applies, technically."

"Innovator-"

"I just wanted to hear your voice." He chokes out, but he isn't stuttering. A lack of a stutter is never a good sign with him. "Just once more."

"You can hear it more than that, Innovator. Come see me. Please." Your tone is beginning to sound urgent, you note. That was not intentional. Not put on to play him. You sound scared, and it shocks you as you know it must shock him.

"I can't right now, Detective. I'm about to, ah... see an old friend." He giggles at some private joke, and the plastic of the phone creaks under the pressure of your white knuckle grip.

"So you'll just force me to listen to you kill yourself, is that it?" You don't mean to snap like that. This is a delicate operation, but you have the distinct feeling of a loss of control. Scofflaw has texted you back, you note. He's on his way to Innovators. You sincerely hope he'll get there in time, and are glad you thought to steal his number from Scouts phone, though he'll probably change it now that he knows you have it.

All noise on Innovators side is mute for a moment after your little outburst. When he speaks again, he sounds much less certain. "I- I'm not- I just wanted to- how did you-"

"Because I know you, Innovator. Not as well as you know me, but I do. You're my-" lover? Boyfriend? Stalker? "You're mine. You've said that I'm yours and it goes both ways. I know you."

"But you don't- don't love me."

"I've gotten as close as I can manage. You are... an important figure in my life. I would prefer not to-" you don't want to lose him. That comes as a revelation to you, and you can't say it. "I think, perhaps for me, I've reached my equivalent of loving you in return." You really wish you were lying, but you realize you are not. It makes you scowl in disgust. He whines again.

"That- don't flatter yourself, Detective. This. This isn't a-about you. You're only a- a part of it and- and your part being removed doesn't- d- doesn't change anything-"

"It's a reason to stay."

"It doesn't outweigh everything else."

"Innovator-" you hear a door fly open and slam shut on his end, but he's clearly too far gone to notice.

"I'm still s-ss-sorry." You don't reply, but you hear Scofflaws voice on the other end, calling out for him. It's far away, and Innovator makes these hurried, distressed sounds. Then Scofflaws voice is suddenly less muffled, and he sounds caught between rage and fear. Perhaps he's simply enraged at having to feel fear. Innovators end of the call cuts off, and you are left with the dial tone. Scofflaw will take care of him, you're sure, but it doesn't ease your mind. Your apartment is suffocatingly empty and you have the distinct feeling that someone else should be there.

Frustrated and worn out by such heavy emotion on top of your already exhausting day, you make your way to bed, but sleep eludes you. You can’t imagine why it would, as mind-numbingly tired as you are. The stubborn lack of sleep continues until you come home three days later after work to find Innovator curled on your couch with bandages on his arms. You refuse to admit any relief, or even sickening happiness in seeing him. That’d be ridiculous. 

He’s made you tea and you drink it in comfortable silence with him. The shadows under his eyes are more prominent than usual, but then again, so are yours. You allow him to stay with you for the night, which honestly isn’t an unusual occurrence any more. Aside from the way he disappeared these past few days, you share a bed with him more often than not nowadays. Even so, when you go to bed with him that night you maintain the stance that you manage sleep in spite of the other person curled against you, rather than because of him.


End file.
